


Take On Me

by StrangerThingsComeInThrees (mackerelmademedoit)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Established Jancy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 02, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism, a journey to poly via friends with benefits, stoncy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackerelmademedoit/pseuds/StrangerThingsComeInThrees
Summary: A drunken mistake leaves Steve questioning everything he thought he knew about his strange, new friendship with both Nancy and Jonathan. Things get more complicated still when they start to suggest that it’s not a mistake at all. Rather, it’s something that they want to explore together. Explore withhim.Somewhere along the way, “friends” had become “friends with benefits” and while Steve knew he still carried a torch for Nancy, developing feelings for her current boyfriend was something he wasn’t prepared for in the slightest.(Eventual, happy poly relationship and mature content for future chapters).





	1. Watching

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been a huge Stoncy shipper since S1, but this is my first time writing them! 
> 
> Credit to [Doynik](http://doynik.tumblr.com/) for being my beta.

“It’s okay, Nance,” Steve had said, and he had been honest. Honest in the sense that it _was_ okay — really, it was — that Nancy was dating Jonathan. Objectively at least, Steve knew that. He and Nance just weren’t right for each other. Okay, maybe Steve didn’t really _believe_ that, but that must’ve been why they hadn’t worked out, right? Yeah maybe he hadn’t quite understood what Nancy had been going through, what she had _needed,_ after the loss of Barb and the fight with the… creature. But he had been trying! The Demogorgon, or whatever the kids called it, still haunted him. The sickening sight of it as it had emerged from the Byers’ living room ceiling, the horrific sounds it had made, the _stench_ of it as it had burned in front of him, leaving behind a gelatinous sludge that had turned his stomach and made bile rise in his throat. The memories of that night still invaded Steve’s dreams. They jolted him awake, leaving him shivering as he lay there in a cold sweat, heart pounding and afraid to look into the darkest corners of his bedroom for fear of seeing the beast lurking in the shadows.

Steve had honestly wanted to forget the whole ordeal.

And he’d thought Nancy had wanted that too.

It made sense now in hindsight that she had turned to Jonathan, someone else who had seen what they had seen and also lost someone to that nightmarish world. _Almost_ lost someone. Twice. It hurt for him to admit, but Steve knew now that he could never have understood what Nancy had needed to ease her pain in the same way Jonathan did. She hadn’t needed to forget. She had needed confrontation, _revenge —_

Closure.

It had taken a bunch of kids and a rogue Demodog for Steve to truly understand that. Pretending the problem wasn’t there wasn’t going to stop it from festering, spreading… But by the time he had realised that fact, Nancy and Jonathan had already taken comfort in each other. And Steve didn’t begrudge them for that. He _couldn’t._ Not when he had seen the way Jonathan had clung on to Nancy so desperately, tears still staining his face, as they’d returned from Hopper’s shack in the woods. For a moment Steve had thought all their efforts to save Will had been in vain, until Joyce had stepped out of the car behind them, cradling her second born — pale and trembling, but incredibly _alive —_ in her arms. Steve knew then that he had been right to tell Nancy to go to him.

Because Jonathan needed her just as much as she needed him.

So Steve had told her it was okay. Because it _was_ . Nancy and Jonathan needed each other and that was okay. _That_ was okay —

— but Steve was not.

Steve was not okay at all.

 

* * *

 

“What are you thinking?”

Nancy gave a start in her seat at the sound of Jonathan’s voice. He was watching her from where he sat opposite her at the cafeteria table, an intent look in his eyes. It was a look she recognised well now after dating him for over a month, the kind of look that indicated that he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking, but he would much rather hear it from her instead. It wasn’t an unkind look, more one born out of a hesitant, yet fond curiosity. Often it surprised her just how clearly Jonathan could see right through her. This time however, she wasn’t so surprised. This time she had been exceedingly obvious in what she had been thinking about. Or rather _whom_ she had been thinking about.

_Steve._

Lunch long forgotten, she had found her gaze wandering over the usual hustle and bustle of their high school cafeteria to land on the boy in question. Steve was eating alone a few tables over from them. To anyone else, he would have appeared quite content, eating his lunch with gusto and glancing down every now and then to peer at his textbook and scrawl down notes in the margins. At first it had made her smile to see him look so dedicated to his studies, more so it seemed than he had ever been, even when she had been dating him. With his graduation on the horizon, she was glad that he had started to take his future more seriously. The longer she watched him however, the more she began to notice the cracks in his facade. A consequence of having dated him for so long, she could see the signs that something was off with him: the slight slump in his shoulders, the detached look in his eyes when he stared down at the papers in front of him, as though he wasn’t really seeing them, and the times when he stilled altogether and gazed vacantly into the distance. It was at that point that she couldn’t look away from him even if she tried. So focused she had been on watching him, the sounds of the busy cafeteria around them had faded almost to nothing, and Jonathan’s voice, soft and low, had been akin to loudspeaker directly in her ear. Sighing, she looked back again at Steve and saw Jonathan turn his head towards him as well.

“I’m worried about him.”

As she spoke, she glanced back at Jonathan, seeing him nod in response and look down at his own lunch.

“Yeah,” he said with a sad smile that said _I figured._ He pushed aside his tray and folded his arms on the table giving her a shy glance. “You’ve been quiet lately.” Slowly, he reached out a hand towards her across the table and she met him halfway with her own. He held her hand gently, running his thumb over hers — soft, warm, ready to listen. She squeezed his hand tighter before speaking.

“He’s keeping his distance.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“But he told me things were okay. That _this —”_ she squeezed his hand again, “ — was okay.” Jonathan frowned a little a that.

“He’s still gonna need some time, Nance—”

“How much time? When he said that, I thought that maybe… maybe he’d still want to be friends but —”

“He says ‘hi’ to us in the corridor sometimes…”

“That’s not the same!” She let go of Jonathan’s hand to run her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit, she realised with a lurch of her stomach, she had picked up from Steve some time ago and had never gotten rid of. “I’m worried that—” She looked away, biting her lip as she considering her words “ — worried that he hasn’t…”

“ — hasn’t got anyone to talk to about what happened aside from our kid brothers and their friends?”

Nancy looked back at him, startled at his words. Once again she was surprised at how easily he had read her. It must have been plain to see on her face, for Jonathan smiled warmly at her and took her hand again.

“I’ve been thinking that for a while now,” he said softly before looking away, avoiding her gaze. “But I didn’t want to — I wanted to wait until you were ready to talk about it….”

As his last words became a mere whisper, his face slightly red, a sudden wave of affection for him overwhelmed her and it took everything in her power not to lean over the table and kiss him, undoubtedly causing a scene. She settled instead for bringing his hand closer and pressing her lips softly to his knuckles. She then watched with amusement as his eyes grew wide and his blush deepened. Nancy loved this about Jonathan she decided. Loved it completely. The way he stood back quietly — watching, observing, _waiting —_ never pushing, but always ready to help. She saw it all the time in action — with herself, his mother, Will —

“You’re good at that,” she said quietly without thinking, her lips brushing his knuckles again as she spoke. Jonathan raised an eyebrow and she slowly relinquished her hold on him, letting their hands fall back down to the table, their fingers still touching.

“At what?”

“Knowing exactly what people need.”

Giving a small bashful laugh at her bluntness, Jonathan rubbed the back of his now reddening neck as he avoided her eyes. He gestured awkwardly towards his bag on the seat beside him, where she knew his camera was kept.

“Watching is what I do,” he said after a small pause. “I guess I’ve just gotten good at reading people.” She hummed in agreement and they fell back into a comfortable silence. Jonathan pulled his lunch tray back towards himself and began to eat again as her eyes slid back to Steve. He was staring vacantly once more. Her heart clenched.

“So what does _he_ need?” she said, and Jonathan stopped chewing and put down his sandwich.

“Who?”

“Steve.”

She watched Jonathan’s face closely as he turned his head to look at Steve. His brow furrowed in concentration as his eyes scanned over the other boy, sizing him up as though he was about to make him the subject of his next photograph. The familiar spark of inspiration she saw in Jonathan’s eyes and the twitch of his fingers towards his bag told her she wasn’t far off the mark. Then Jonathan smiled and her heart gave a funny jolt in her chest.

“I think he needs a friend,” Jonathan said. His voice was warm and when he directed his gaze back to her at last, his eyes crinkled a little with fond amusement. “Friends who aren’t thirteen years old.” Nancy laughed and stood up, inclining her head in Steve’s direction in a small gesture.

“Should I —?” she said, trailing off, but as Jonathan nodded earnestly, smile still bright on his face, she knew that she didn’t need to say anything more.

“Go on. Invite him over.”

When she returned with a bewildered, but tentatively pleased Steve in tow, the strange feeling of discontent that had been lurking within her over the past month, eased somewhat.

They all finished lunch together and Nancy found herself being the watcher again as the two boys exchanged clumsy, albeit friendly banter. Then Steve laughed at something Jonathan said and, for the first time she’d seen in weeks, the light reached his eyes. She smiled.

 

* * *

 

There were a few reasons that Jonathan could think of for why Steve made Nancy happy. Although Jonathan had been watching them both for years, it only took a moment for people within Steve’s general vicinity to see the kind of guy that he was.

_He’s open._

It was the first thing Jonathan remembered seeing in him back when Steve had first made his existence known to him in middle school — a quality that Jonathan could never claim to possess himself. ‘Made himself known to him’ was also the best way to describe how Jonathan had become aware of Steve Harrington, for he had never properly introduced himself to the other boy. Steve was just _there_ one day, loud and bright and surrounded by people who were laughing raucously at the jokes he was making. Impossible to miss. Impossible to tear his eyes away from.

_He makes people laugh._

It wasn’t as though Jonathan didn’t have a sense of humour. On the contrary, for he now made it his mission to pry as many smiles and laughs out of his mother, Will, Nancy, and now Steve strangely enough, as possible.

But Steve was on another level entirely. Almost every night now he had the kids breathless from laughter at his antics during their D&D campaigns, laughter that now extended towards Jonathan and Nancy too, for who could resist peeking in on the shenanigans that occurred down in the Wheeler basement and basking in the light of their happy, carefree smiles? After all the trauma of the monsters and the Upside Down, Jonathan’s heart swelled and face ached from smiling at the sight of his brother laughing himself hoarse over Steve’s, frankly awful, Yoda impression.

And now Nancy smiled as well.

She had always smiled of course, Jonathan had enough photos to prove it, but there was something altogether different about seeing the way Nancy appeared to open up even more and smile even wider when Steve was around. It was striking, enough so that Jonathan had more candids of them two together now than was probably considered normal. His camera was getting a workout.

 _The camera they both got me_ his brain never failed to remind him, and his heart was full as he considered his next reason.

_He is kind._

Nancy had let it slip one day. The night before their brothers’ prom. They had been chatting idly about the order of events — getting the kids there, putting up the alcohol-free punch table — and of course setting up Jonathan’s camera.

“It should be easy to set up on a tripod, right?” Nancy had said. “Steve and I checked when we bought it at the store. There should be an attachment on the bottom for it to clip on to.”

_Steve and I._

_Steve—_

Jonathan’s fingers had slipped on the lens he was polishing, almost sending it clattering to the floor of his bedroom. His ears were ringing. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to calm his now wildly beating heart enough to register that Nancy was speaking to him, a concerned look on her face.

“Jonathan? Are you okay?”

He’d nodded at her dumbly, hands shaking at he went back to polishing, trying hard to appear unaffected despite alarm bells in the form of the words _‘Steve and I’_ blaring out in his mind. He’d made an attempt at clearing his throat, his mouth having gone very dry and managed to rasp out a “Y-yeah I’m fine. You’re right there should be an — an attachment or whatever..” and the incident was forgotten. An incident that was an incident only to himself and always in the forefront of his mind whenever he had his two friends lined up in front of his lens.

_He is loyal._

Being friends with Steve Harrington was something Jonathan had never considered to be a possibility. Not even after they had defeated the Demogorgon together with Nancy. That was merely circumstance, he’d told himself. It hadn’t meant anything. Even entertaining the idea that it had been about anything other than _survival_ was dangerous. In _his_ mind anyway. Assuming anything would change between the three of them, was a sure fire way of him getting hurt when it would inevitably turn out not to be the case. They’d both surprised him however — Nancy with her tentative friendship and Steve with his forthright apology.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said firmly after cornering Jonathan one day outside his locker, gaze never wavering from Jonathan’s own.

“F-for what?” Jonathan had replied, though he had suspected he knew what — _hoped_ he knew what.

“For being a giant dick to you,” Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Breaking your camera, saying all that shit about you and your family. You didn’t deserve that, man…” His gaze finally faltered as he looked away sheepishly, running his hands through his hair. “So… so yeah. I’m sorry. And like, maybe we could be — ? Ahh, whatever just… look. I’ve got your back okay? So if Tommy or Carol try and start shit with you, dude, just let me know.”

Then with a hard nod and rough clasp of Jonathan’s shoulder, he was gone, leaving Jonathan behind with a strange feeling of having overlooked something about someone for the first time in his life.

And now they were here.

Having proper friends for the first time in his life was something Jonathan didn’t think he’d ever get used to. He watched them now, Steve and Nancy together, as all three of them hung out in the Wheelers’ living room, having put the younger kids to bed not too long ago. The three of them babysitting was a common occurrence now. The Wheeler parents had grabbed the opportunity of being able to get out the house more with an intense enthusiasm and it was a great excuse for the three of them to have regular movie nights now after an exhausting night of supervising D&D. Or joining in on the campaign in Steve’s case. They were all sprawled on the living room floor in a strange amalgamation of blankets, pillows and limbs, movie watching long forgotten in favour of listening to Steve give an animated account of the most recent D&D campaign. Nancy was laughing loudly, tears in her eyes from trying hard to keep her voice down or risk waking the kids. Meanwhile, Steve was gesturing wildly with his hands in a weirdly accurate impression of Mike in his dungeon master role, only breaking character a handful of times to point and snort with laughter at Nancy’s almost constipated looking expression as she tried in vain to hold in her giggles. And Jonathan —

Jonathan was watching.

Nancy and Steve barely registered it anymore when Jonathan took his camera out and began capturing moments. They were so used to it now, that they seemed to unconsciously know just how to pose in order for Jonathan to capture them perfectly. That or it was impossible to take a truly _bad_ photo of the pair. Jonathan loved taking photos of them together — loved seeing the way they both lit up in each others presence. He didn’t dwell on the fact that it was probably abnormal to enjoy seeing how happy _another guy_ was making his girlfriend. And not just any guy, but her most recent _ex._ It wasn’t like he didn’t get jealous of Steve. It happened a lot. Horrendously so. Because who _couldn’t_ be jealous of someone as effortlessly charismatic as Steve Harrington? But in these moments, the moments in which he was only an observer with a camera, he never did. These intimate moments were his as well as theirs. He couldn’t explain how or why he felt that way, but Jonathan knew for sure that they were _meant_ to be shared with him. They were letting him see—

— and they were beautiful.

Nancy had finally calmed down now, sitting quietly as she listened to Steve talking. Jonathan inhaled sharply as he watched her, his heart so light in his chest it was painful. His fingers fumbled for the camera, holding his breath as he captured the soft smile and fondness in her eyes forever in time. As the shutter sounded, he let the air out of his lungs slowly, willing his heart rate to return to normal. He cast his eyes over to Steve who was still talking, though now with a much quieter, more serious tone. Jonathan wasn’t concentrating on what he was saying, but he was enraptured nonetheless. A smiling Steve was magnetic, but this serious, completely unguarded Steve was captivating in a whole new way. Jonathan raised his camera again.

Although Jonathan could confidently say that he never got bored of taking photos of Nancy (and had taken more photos of her than he could count at this point) he couldn’t deny that this other side to Steve he was seeing was just as compelling, if not more so. It was _new,_ it was _thrilling._ Steve was without a doubt Jonathan’s new and most interesting subject. He found himself taking more candids of Steve than anyone else these days. A fact he wasn’t altogether comfortable with, but not altogether _uncomfortable_ with either. Jonathan didn’t think much about what that might mean because right now in this moment, it didn’t matter. He snapped one more photo of the pair before forcing himself to put down the camera and shuffle closer to them, catching up on the conversation as he idly stroked the curls by Nancy’s ear. Steve poked Jonathan’s calf with his toe in greeting and Jonathan wondered why the spot still felt warm even an hour afterwards.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Jonathan was in the dark room developing the photos of that night, that he realised — realised one of the most important reasons why Steve made Nancy happy. He looked down at the last photo he had taken of that night with a strange feeling in his chest — a warmth tinged with an aching sadness — for it reminded him of one such a photo he had taken of them before. The one taken without permission. The one taken on that fateful night when they’d never seen Barb alive again.

Jonathan’s hands shook as he hung up the photo and watched silently as the developing chemicals dripped down onto the floor. But he was happy. He smiled broadly as he traced the lines of his friends’ faces with his eyes. He couldn’t be a hundred percent certain, but maybe — _just maybe_ — one of the reasons why Steve made Nancy happy, was because he reminded her of simpler times. The times when they were all just dumb teenagers in a world without monsters and nothing was this complicated.

That was something Jonathan could never give her.

But he was oddly okay with that.

When they were dry, he gathered up his photos and started making his way towards the school’s exit. Absorbed in flicking through the candids, it was only the sounds of familiar voices that made him look up in surprise. Steve and Nancy were waiting for him by his car, talking and laughing quietly. Jonathan found himself struck again by the unguarded look on Steve’s face, except this time it was full of light and laughter. He wished that his camera wasn’t out of film. He stood for a while and watched them, smiling to himself as his mind came to rest with a thought that left him the most content he had felt in weeks.

_Nancy made Steve happy too._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always highly appreciated! ^-^ Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr/twitter:
> 
> [My Stoncy/Stranger Things Tumblr](https://stoncyy.tumblr.com/)| [Main Tumblr](http://purpleneutrino.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purpleneutrino)


	2. Modern Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive response! :D Hope you guys enjoy this update. I really loved writing this one. 
> 
> **Mild warning for underage drinking and period-typical homophobic slurs.**
> 
> Credit to [Doynik](http://doynik.tumblr.com/) for being my beta.

Nancy had a problem. Though if she was honest with herself, it was becoming harder for her to keep seeing it as such. It was difficult to think of anything as being a problem at all when being surrounded by the warm, delicious scent of Jonathan’s cooking and the peels of laughter coming from the kids that were currently chasing Steve around her parents’ kitchen. It was D&D night once again, except this time, Jonathan had offered to cook. That gave her parents an excuse to get out of the house earlier than usual, and gave Jonathan an excuse to enlist Steve’s help in feeding four extra, opportunistic children. As word had spread amongst the party, they had turned up one by one outside on the Wheelers’ doorstep, making Nancy feel as though she were on the set of _Oliver!_ more so than for her namesake alone. Steve’s eyebrows had risen higher and higher with each new arrival, almost disappearing into his hairline altogether when finally Max had crashed through the threshold on her skateboard, forgetting to break in her haste to join the others.

“Dude,” Steve had said, turning to Jonathan with a whisper as the kids began squabbling over who was going to sit where at the dining room table. “Is your cooking _that_ good?”

“No,” Jonathan had said with a snort as he came back from his second trip to the refrigerator for extra carrots. “But they know I’m less likely than Mrs. Wheeler to turn them away at the door for being an uninvited dinner guest.”

“So what you’re saying, Byers, is that you’re soft?”

Nancy had to force the grin off her face as Jonathan’s ears had turned pink and he’d thrown rubber gloves and a dishcloth into Steve's face with a brusk, “And you’re on cleanup duty.”

Therein lay Nancy’s problem. Steve on cleanup duty, as it turned out, was more endearing than she’d expected. Way more endearing than it had any right to be. Donned in soap bubbles, yellow rubber and an unimpressed scowl, Steve was brandishing the dishcloth with decidedly less flourish than he had his nail bat, but was trying his best to appear every bit as menacing as he chased the kids back around the room.

“Will you shitheads _stop_ throwing bubbles at me for _two seconds?!_ Byers, tell them!”

“Tell them what?”

“That I’ll be eating their share of dinner if they don’t stop being dicks!”

“You kinda brought it on yourself.”

“How?!”

“Next time don't use half the bottle of soap for washing like, three plates and a fork.” Jonathan smiled and flicked a soap bubble off Steve’s hair. “Then maybe you won’t literally create ammo for them to use against you.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows as he spoke, nodding pointedly over Steve’s shoulder, just in time for Steve to turn and get a handful of bubbles to the face from Dustin.

“I trusted you!” Steve yelled at Dustin’s fast retreating form, before turning back around to wave his cloth at Jonathan again. “Two forks, Byers! It was two! _And_ a knife!”

“Whatever.” Nancy couldn’t hold back a giggle as her and Jonathan shared a look and he attempted to hide his grin with limited success. “I need to get back to cooking now, so stop messing around, yeah?”

“I’m not —” Steve started to say, but was interrupted with another handful of bubbles hitting the side of his head and he gave an exasperated sigh. “Great. Just… thanks for that, Max. I appreciate it.” She gave him a thumbs up and sauntered off, but now Dustin was back with Lucas and Will in tow, all armed to the gills with soapy projectiles.

“Jonathan,” Steve said with a pitiful whine, turning to look at him, eyes large and pleading, as the group descended. Nancy didn’t miss the way Jonathan’s face softened at Steve’s use of his first name.

“Guys,” Jonathan said loudly over the din, “stop bullying Steve and sit down.”

Smiling, Nancy tried to tune back in to what Mike was saying to her and El — some explanation as to how a certain incantation had worked in their latest D&D campaign — but couldn’t help peering over Mike’s shoulder again to watch the way Steve inclined his head towards Jonathan.

“You’re no help at all,” she heard Steve murmur, and Jonathan’s quiet laugh in response made her heart skip. She didn’t have to see his face to know what kind of expression he was making. It was one that frequently instilled a warm glow in her chest and left her feeling privileged for having induced such a reaction from him. She felt the same warmth inside of her now despite not being the recipient. Nancy wished she could have seen Steve’s reaction to it better before he turned away again, grimacing as he used the dishcloth to wipe the remains of the bubbles off himself. Despite all his protests, she didn’t fail to see the amusement in his eyes and the hint of a smile as he half-heartedly made to swipe at the kids once more before they all finally settled down in their seats. Then Steve glanced up and caught her eye. He grinned brightly and her heart felt light in an awfully familiar way.

Face flushed and smiling, she looked away from him and straight into Mike’s vaguely disgusted expression instead. Her heart thudded and she wondered why she felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. But Mike merely rolled his eyes at her and turned to address El again, clearly having given up on Nancy paying any attention to him whatsoever.

So she instead she cast her eyes back, guilt-free, towards her ‘problem’ again.

Steve himself wasn’t the problem, she decided firmly. The problem was that every little thing he did, no matter how innocuous, was getting under her skin. It was the way he was humming off-key to one of their favourite songs as he washed up, how he screwed up his nose as he scrubbed hard at a stubborn stain on the cutting board Jonathan had just passed him, the fact that he obviously had little to no experience in doing the dishes at all; but that he was trying his best all the same. Every _single_ thing was making her heart race and she was furious for it.

Mike was staring at her again she could feel it, but just as she was about to ask him what the hell his problem was, Jonathan appeared in her field of view.

“I have Holly’s dinner ready if you want to call her over?” he said. “Thought you might want to make sure she eats first and get her ready for bed before the locusts descend.” The happy flush on his face and laughter in his voice eased the tension in her shoulders that she hadn’t realised had been there. She let out a long sigh, feeling her building irritation melt away and she smiled at him.

“Right. I’ll do that.”

Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she went to fetch her little sister from the living room where she was parked happily in front of the TV. Nancy sat down at the table with Holly on her lap, the rest of the seats having now been taken up, and took comfort in the way Jonathan’s hand lingered on hers as he passed her Holly’s plate. He brushed his fingertips lightly across her skin before reluctantly withdrawing, heading back to Steve in the kitchen. The tender moment was ruined of course by Mike next to her making a show of gagging, and then El’s resulting snort of laughter. She ignored them, absent-mindedly listening to the low rumblings of voices from the kitchen as she helped Holly cut up her potatoes. Steve laughed loudly and she forced herself not to look up at him, the disconcerting mixture of affection and annoyance swirling in the pit of her stomach again.

Nancy stabbed a potato more viciously than intended, causing Holly to look up at her in alarm. Stroking her hair to soothe her, Nancy continued cutting, mind racing. She just didn’t understand. In this moment, with all of them together — laughing, smiling and reunited at last — she felt more like part of a family than she ever did when she was with her parents. Nancy couldn’t recall ever feeling more happy and yet —

Mike’s continued looks were setting her on edge.

As was Steve’s laugh.

It was more than she could have hoped for. Jonathan and Steve getting along and all three of them being able to be friends after all they had been through. Jonathan finally had a friend that wasn’t her or his brother, and Steve was —

She looked up at him.

_“You were just telling it how it is.”_

He was… happy?

_“Apparently we killed Barb and I don’t care ‘cause I’m bullshit—”_

_Was_ he happy?

_“ — and our whole relationship is bullshit—”_

Nancy stared at Steve’s grinning face, but now all she could see was the devastation in his eyes when he had confronted her outside the basketball court. Guilt twisted in her gut.

_“I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.”_

God how she needed him to be happy.

_“Oh yeah, also —”_

She needed that more than anything.

_“You don’t love me.”_

“Nancy?”

A small tug on her sleeve brought her back to the present and she blinked down at Holly in her lap. She’d finished eating. Hearing the clatter of plates and the sounds of Steve and Jonathan about to bring out the rest of the dinner, Nancy quickly whisked Holly out of the way and up the stairs before she was forced to meet Steve’s eyes. When she had tucked Holly into bed and kissed her goodnight, Nancy lingered at the top of the stairs. The thought of returning to the dining room now felt more terrifying than facing a Demogorgon. She moved on autopilot towards her own room.

Collapsing down onto her bed, Nancy closed her eyes and fumbled blindly for the play button on her cassette player. The sounds of the mixtape Jonathan had made her filled the air and she let herself breathe, pushing down the confused mess of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her still.

_“You don’t love me.”_

It had been true. And she had hurt him with that truth. But she _had_ loved him. At least at one point, and now —

“Are you okay, Nance?”

Even his voice had her reeling. She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. Steve was leaning awkwardly against the doorway, stepping from one foot to the other over the threshold.

“Can I — can I come in?” he said, his voice so soft and unsure, that for a moment she forgot that she was meant to be annoyed at him — for reasons she still couldn’t explain or really wanted to think about anymore. So she didn’t. Instead she smiled and nodded at him. She smiled wider still as she sat up and noticed that he still had bubbles on his face.

“W-what?” he said as he stepped into her room. His eyes darted about in confusion as she stepped closer towards him. Standing up on her tiptoes, Nancy swiped at his cheek and the bubbles floated to the ground.

“Oh,” he said with a bashful half-smile as he watched them go. Then, without warning, his eyes were back on hers and she realised that her hand was still on his cheek. His face was warm and softer than she remembered. She let go of him quickly.

“Did you have fun?” she said teasingly, stepping away, her heart hammering. Thankfully, Steve took her bait in the form of a subject change and shot her a withering look, crossing his arms defensively.

“Did I have fun being attacked by a bunch of middle schoolers? Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Because the answer is so obviously ‘yes’, right?” Nancy laughed as Steve threw his hands up in frustration and ran them through his hair.

“No! _Not_ right!”

“Are you _blushing,_ Steve Harrington?” Steve pointed at her sternly as she giggled.

“I don’t blush.”

“Oh I can think of a few times you have.”

He stared at her, and it wasn’t until a second or two of silence later that she realised the suggestiveness of the words she’d let slip. She looked away, peeking back at him from beneath her lashes as he played with the fraying edge of the dish cloth that still hung over his shoulder. Turning away from her, he paced slowly around the room, humming the last bars of the song that was still playing over her tape deck. Nancy dreaded the silence that would come after.

As the song faded away, Steve stopped pacing. He’d come to a stop near her door — half in, half out like he had been before — and her heart sank. Just as they’d been doing well on the whole “friends” front, she’d gone and messed it up by saying the wrong thing. Driven him away.

_Don’t go._

They both opened their mouths at the same time to speak —

_Stay._

— but the mixtape got there before them. They both jumped as familiar notes and drum beats rang out over the speakers, and Nancy watched as Steve’s face lit up in recognition.

_‘I know when to go out_

_And when to stay in.’_

Steve stepped back over the threshold, awkwardness apparently forgotten as he smiled and moved his head to the beat.

_‘Get things done.’_

“Hey, I know this one!” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Bowie? It was your favourite right?”

“One of them,” she said. Steve’s smile was infectious and her chest warmed at the fact that he’d remembered that. She shook her head at him in embarrassment as he snapped his fingers rhythmically, mouthing the words as he moved towards her, gesturing for her to join him.

“You can’t dance!” she said with a snort of laughter and he shrugged.

“Maybe I’ve learned how to since we last — no wait —” His brow furrowed. “I never _did_ take you to a dance did I?” The unmistakable sound of regret in his voice pained her.

“We never really had the chance,” Nancy mumbled, avoiding his eyes. Between losing Barb, fighting monsters and their subsequent break-up, the opportunity for dancing had long since been lost. But here he was, right here, right now, hand outstretched towards her and somehow Nancy knew that this was one of those fleeting moments that she’d regret not taking hold of and grasping onto with all the courage she possessed. And so, casting all doubts aside, she took hold of his hand. It was dry, chapped and more calloused than it had been since she’d last held it.

But it was warm.

Steve tugged her forward, taking hold of her other hand and began to move them in time to the beat. Nancy soon discovered however, that describing it as ‘in time’ was being generous. Completely inaccurate in fact.

“Liar!” she shrieked indignantly, breathless with laughter at the way Steve’s limbs seemed to have a life of their own with the way he was flailing them around, almost tripping up both her and himself multiple times in the span of only a few seconds. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Hey, I never said I could dance _well._ ”

Maybe — Nancy thought to herself, as their terrible dancing devolved further into the two of them yelling the lyrics at each other as Steve mimed the saxophone and drums — maybe they didn’t need a moment to talk. Maybe all they needed were moments like this. Moments where they let go of the past together and danced around unspoken regrets and apologies that perhaps didn’t need to be said out loud at all. The laughter reached Steve’s eyes and this time, Nancy let herself feel the thrum of electricity that it sent through her. A new start. New feelings. Steve took hold of her hand again.

“Has Jonathan taken you?” he said, still smiling, but voice low and more serious. “Dancing I mean.” The warm weight of his hand came to settle cautiously on her waist as they danced closer. She held her breath, but didn’t pull away.

“He says he’ll take me to see a band one day,” she said, and he tilted his head slightly.

“Hmm... that’s not dancing though.”

“But it’s _music._ ”

“Well, as long as it’s music you like—” he said softly.

He let go of her waist and stepped back. She wondered for a moment if something was wrong, until he raised their joined  hands and tried to spin her.  

“ — and music you can dance to.”

Nancy laughed and caught herself before she could stumble over him onto the floor.

“Of course it will be!” she said and then, with a stroke of inspiration, pulled him back as hard as she could and maneuvered him clumsily into a spin of her own. She laughed as he yelped in surprise and tried not to trip over his own feet. “Who do you think made this mixtape?” Steve nodded and made a noise of approval before grinning again.

“Do you think if I ask him nicely, Byers will make me one too?” he said. “Or do they fall under ‘special girlfriend privileges’?”

“What am I making you?”

They both stopped dancing abruptly at the sound of Jonathan’s voice and turned to see him hovering in the doorway, a strange smile on his face as he took in the pair. Steve cleared his throat and let go of Nancy’s hand in favour of clutching the dish cloth around his neck.

“Nothing — ah — a mixtape?” Steve said, eyes flicking to Jonathan and back again. “Yours is good. This one you made for Nance I mean…” Jonathan blinked at him in surprise.

“Oh. Cool. Thanks,” he said after small pause, smiling shyly. It was always fascinating to Nancy, just how many emotions Jonathan could convey in something as simple as glance or twitch of an eyebrow, and yet at the same time, leave so much more unsaid. He was doing it now as he spoke, talking to Steve but attempting to have an altogether different conversation with her with his eyes alone.

“So, um, I saved some dinner for you guys if you want it?” he was saying. “I stopped Dustin from trying to steal all the potatoes, so there’s enough left for the three of us.” He stepped forward to tug at the dish cloth on Steve’s shoulder. “And then I need help cleaning up again.” Steve grinned.

“That’s great,” he said. “Thanks, man. For the food.” He clapped Jonathan on the shoulder as he made his way out the door, turning around at the last moment to wave the dish cloth playfully in Jonathan’s face. “ _And_ the chores! I can’t wait for that part.” Jonathan laughed and swatted the cloth away.

“You’re welcome.”

And then Steve was gone, leaving them alone with only the music of the mixtape to break through the quiet.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan said, stepping closer and taking her hand. “I noticed you leaving but—”

“Yeah,” Nancy said quickly. “I’m fine. Are you?” She watched curiously as Jonathan’s eyes widened a little, before he appeared to school his expression into one of confusion.

“Me? Yeah I am. Why? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“There’s something— ” She reached up to brush a loose strand of hair out of his eyes.

_Something you’re not saying._

“N-no, I’m — no there isn’t. I’m just…” He trailed off, and Nancy searched his face.

_Confused._

Nancy bit her lip. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Not anymore. She took a deep breath, determined.

“This is still okay right?” she said, voice firm. “Us and Steve?” Jonathan glanced at her, eyes wary. “You two are both getting along so well.” She smiled at the memories as she spoke. “You were both so— ”

_Happy._

“ — good with the kids today. So I… we were just hanging out.” She crossed her arms. It was true, but there had been… _something_. “It wasn’t anything— ”

“Y-yeah. I know.”

“Really, it wasn’t—”

“It’s fine, Nance.” He let go of her hand to squeeze her shoulders. “I mean it. It’s actually— ” He exhaled sharply through his nose, licking his lips and pressing his mouth into a thin line. “I like watching you two together — sorry!” Red flooded his face and he let go of her as if burned. “That sounded —  I meant… seeing you having fun together.” He ran his hands through his hair, and he reminded her so much of Steve in that moment that her heart lurched painfully. “It’s cute — _nice_ — ah — I’ve taken lots of cute — _nice_ photos of you both — together I mean. What I’m saying is… It’s fine, you know? You two hanging out. I’m glad you’re friends and things are cool between us all. I can see how happy he makes you.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets. “And him too. Both of you.”

As his words sunk in, something in her mind clicked into place. Nancy wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but all at once she felt better, more content. Her and Jonathan. Her and Steve...

She didn’t realised she was smiling until she caught the look on Jonathan’s face. It was an expression she teased him about sometimes, one that he wore when he just _couldn’t_ figure something out. If he’d had his camera with him now, he doubtless would have taken her photo. Taken her photo and then pored over it hours later, desperate to understand what it meant.

“Maybe you guys should hang out sometime,” she said carefully, afraid that if she didn’t, her words would shatter this moment between that had somehow become so fragile. “Just you two.”

The mixtape still played in the background.

“Maybe,” Jonathan said in whisper and he smiled as she squeezed his hand.

_‘Modern love, walks beside me_

_Modern love, walks on by_

_Never gonna fall for_

_Modern love.’_

 

* * *

 

When Jonathan had opened his front door to find Steve standing there with a grin and 6-pack of beer, he was embarrassed to say that he might have panicked a little. He was sure for a moment, after the talk he and Nancy had had during the D&D night, that Nancy had asked Steve to pay him a house call. Afterwards however, Nancy had assured him that Steve had gone all of his own accord. So now here they were in the kitchen, making awkward small talk over cans of beer while Jonathan a) tried not to panic and b) worked desperately to figure out exactly _why_ Steve had decided to pay him a visit. And so late in the evening too.

“Mom’s working the late shift tonight,” Jonathan said when had Steve inquired, “and Will’s sleeping because it’s, you know, 10pm on a school night.” Steve winced.

“Yeah… sorry, man.” He ran his hand over his face. “I didn’t think, I just — should I go?”

“No. No it’s fine,” Jonathan said, and while that wasn’t completely true, he wanted it to be. Being around Steve was fine — _great_ now even — but only with the safety net of Nancy there too. The idea of being around Steve on his own, was still an overwhelming prospect. He was feeling that now as Steve smiled at him gratefully.

“Awesome,” he said. “Thanks.”

_Overwhelming._

Jonathan held his breath and nodded at him stiffly, staring down at the beer Steve had given him.

“So, you used to DM right?” Steve said suddenly and Jonathan was sure he’d misheard him.

“Huh?” Jonathan replied, looking up at him. Steve was fidgeting with the ring on his can, his gaze flicking away from him and back again.

“DM?” he said again. “Dungeon master, you know? When you used to play D&D with the kids? Back when you were in middle school?”

“Oh. Right.” Jonathan found himself flushing under Steve’s amused but curious gaze. “Who told you that?” Steve downed the last swig of his beer before answering.

“Dustin.”

“Of course.”

“So is it true? You used to play?”

“So what if I did?”

Steve’s resulting grin made Jonathan bristle out of habit, uncomfortable childhood memories of being teased for his nerdier interests rising to the surface. Steve raised his hands in truce, grin vanishing at the look on Jonathan’s face.

“Easy, man. I wasn’t making fun of you or anything.” An unsure smile made its way back onto his face. “I just thought it was cute.” Jonathan spluttered at that, choking on his beer and turning even redder than he had before. To his credit, Steve had the decency to look a bit abashed at his own words as he hastened to elaborate.

“Cute as in it’s cool of you, you know?” Steve says, talking a little faster than normal, Jonathan noticed. “That you played with them.”

“It’s not cute,” Jonathan muttered, face still burning. He couldn’t stop his mind wandering back however to their most recent D&D night at the Wheelers’ and how he’d felt upon seeing how much fun Steve and the kids were having during the campaign. If he was honest, ‘cute’ had also been the word that had crossed his mind at the time.

He wasn’t going to tell Steve that though.

“Sorry,” Steve said with a smirk, “but it’s totally adorable and you won’t convince me otherwise.” It seemed as though he was enjoying Jonathan’s embarrassment too much to bother feeling it himself anymore. “So, you know how to play DM then?”

“Of course,” Jonathan said with defiance. It was no use being embarrassed anymore. “Who do you think taught them all how to play in the first place?” Steve shrugged and leant back on the kitchen counter, looking back at Jonathan with a frown, considering him. Jonathan squirmed under his scrutiny.

“I don’t see it,” Steve said after a while and Jonathan gave him a questioning look.

“See what?”

“I’ve been playing under the brutal rule of Wheeler’s dungeon master for three weeks now, and you’re just— ” he pulled a face “ — not a Mike.” Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And who did you even play with before then?” Steve continued, avoiding his question. “You gotta know how to play first before you can teach, right? Jonathan opened his mouth to protest, but Steve wasn’t paying attention, a strange, almost fierce determination on his face as he shook his finger in Jonathan’s direction. “But I remember middle school Jonathan Byers, and even back then you were alone.”

_Alone._

A vast cocktail of emotions twisted in Jonathan’s stomach at the bluntness of Steve’s words. They hurt a little, even though Jonathan was sure Steve hadn’t meant for them to come across as harsh. And despite that, his brain decided to zero in on something else entirely.

“You remember me in middle school?”

That has shocked him more than anything else that Steve had said to him so far this evening. Steve looked up at him, blinking in confusion.

“Err, yeah?” he said, incredulity palpable in his voice. “Byers, the kid who never spoke unless you disagreed with him on who was better: David Bowie or Foxy Music.”

“It’s Roxy Music.”

“What?”

“They’re called Roxy Music not Foxy Music.”

“Whatever! You’re missing my point here!”

“Which is?”

“You didn’t have a party,” Steve said, looking at him with an undecipherable expression on his face. “So I’m just having trouble imagining shy, little, middle school Byers being the Mike Wheeler of his band of nerds.” Jonathan laughed at that.

“You trying to unlock my tragic backstory, Harrington? Is that what this is?” Steve narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin in mock thought.

“Something like that.”

“Real people aren’t as simple as characters in a D&D game, Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve said indignantly, pointing at him again. “I might not have been playing long, but one thing I know for sure, is that nothing about that game can be described as simple. The spell book alone is thirty-seven pages long! _Thirty-seven!_ And that’s only the basic version! _”_ Jonathan snorted.

“I know.”

There was silence for a moment and Steve excused himself to fetch another beer. As he did, Jonathan watched him, chewing his lip as he mulled over what Steve had said.

“You’re right. I didn’t have a party,” Jonathan said at last, voice quiet. Steve took up his position beside him once more against the counter. Cradling his new beer in his hands, Steve looked back at him, eyes dark and curious in a silent request for him to continue. Jonathan swallowed.

“I never had any friends until Will,” Jonathan said, unable to meet Steve’s gaze. “He was my best friend. Still is. My best friend as well as my brother.” He didn’t dare look back at Steve now. What would his expression be like? Mocking? Sadness? Pitying? “So we hung out together. All the time. Even after he made friends with Mike and the others. He’d come to me for everything you know? Especially when mom and dad were fighting… anyway.” He chanced a look back up at Steve, but Steve’s face gave nothing away. Jonathan cleared his throat and looked back down at his beer that was growing warm in hands.

“So one night he just bursts into my room, tears down his face and this book in his hands. Mom was yelling at dad down the hallway and I just knew Lonnie had said some shit to him again.” Feeling a warm weight against his shoulder, Jonathan paused. Steve had shuffled closer, just enough to touch. Jonathan realised then that he had been trembling with suppressed anger at the memories, with only the small brush of contact from Steve throwing it into focus. He wondered briefly if Steve had done it on purpose, for he felt himself begin to calm as the warmth from Steve’s form seeped into him. He gathered the courage to speak again.

“He told me that Mike had just gotten a new game called Dungeons and Dragons, but neither Mike, Dustin or Lucas could make any headways with the dungeon master reading.” Steve snorted, the first sound he had made since Jonathan had started talking. He looked up and saw that Steve was smiling.

“I don’t blame ‘em,” he said. “I was reading up on it before I came here and that shit’s more complicated than my Calculus classes.”

Interest piqued, Jonathan debated asking Steve exactly _why_ he’d been reading up on the dungeon master role before paying him an impromptu visit, but changed his mind at the last second, choosing instead to nod along in agreement after mentally filing away that fact for questioning at a later date.

“Right? There’s still stuff _I_ don’t understand about it even after playing for years. Still, Mike’s better at it now than I am, so I guess that doesn’t matter. So anyway, Will volunteered to be DM and do the reading.” Steve smiled warmly at that and Jonathan’s heart swelled at the genuine fondness he saw in Steve’s eyes.

“He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan grinned. “And so smart! He was always the best at reading, so he wanted to give it a shot. But he still struggled with it. He was only in second grade and this book looked like a hundred pages at least. So he went to Lonnie for help, because that’s what a dad’s meant to do right?” He couldn’t help the sardonic laugh that slipped out at that, and for a moment felt embarrassed at how much emotion he was displaying. But then Steve’s hand was on his shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. The heat of it lingered even after Steve lifted it away.

“I’ve been there,” said Steve quietly, not looking at him. His smile was gone, leaving behind a look in his eyes that left Jonathan aching to find out the story behind that particular wall Steve had thrown up around himself.

“And Lonnie did what Lonnie always does,” Jonathan carried on, knowing it wasn’t the time to pry. “Brushed him off, called him a queer for even being interested in something as ‘dumb as fantasy games’ and said he should be out playing baseball or soccer instead like a real boy his age.” He felt Steve flinch beside him at the word ‘queer’ and knew at once that he was recalling their confrontation in the alleyway beside the movie theatre. Before he knew what he was doing, Jonathan found himself leaning further into Steve in a small gesture of reassurance. When Steve didn’t shy away, Jonathan’s heart felt a little lighter.

_That’s in the past now._

“So he’s all upset of course,” Jonathan continued, “and terrified of letting his friends down. All because of this damn book! And I — I couldn't just let him carry on _crying_ like that. I _had_ to —”

“So you volunteered?”

Steve was smiling broadly and the space between them seemed to get even smaller somehow. Jonathan laughed shakily and looked down at his beer again.

“Stayed up all night reading it,” he said. He felt his face heating up. “Failed the pop quiz the next day, but it was worth it.” He grinned at the memory of the first campaign he had played with the boys. It had been terrible and he’d stumbled and stuttered through almost every other word, but it had been one of the best nights of his life. He’d never seen the kids having so much fun before and the look of utmost pride and awe on Will’s face was something Jonathan would never forget. It had been worth every second of lost sleep all right.

“And then one day, Mike asked me to teach him how to be DM and I left them to it,” he finished in a rush, suddenly feeling very exposed. He heard Steve hum thoughtfully beside him. They were close enough now for Jonathan to feel the vibrations from it. Jonathan held back a shiver and turned his head to meet Steve’s gaze. Steve narrowed his eyes and took a long drink from his can.

“You lied to me,” he said, voice muffled slightly from behind the can and Jonathan frowned.

“What?”

“You totally had a party,” Steve said, lowering his beer to reveal a small smirk. It wasn’t mocking, Jonathan knew that, but he couldn’t help but draw his arms around himself all the same, pulling away from Steve’s warmth that once comforting, now felt like it was burning him.

“N-no I — I didn’t! It wasn’t like that I — it’s not the _same—_ ”

“So you had no friends apart from your kid brother, so what?”

That fierce determination was back in Steve’s eyes again and Jonathan turned away. It hurt to look.

“It still counts.” Steve said softly. “You had a party then and you have a new party now. Right?” Jonathan blinked at him. Why did Steve look more vulnerable now than he felt himself? Jonathan clenched his fists, watching curiously as Steve stared down at his now empty beer can like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“R-right,” Jonathan said finally, having a feeling that Steve needed to hear his answer more than he did for some reason. Then there was quiet, but only for a moment, for if there was one thing that Jonathan had learnt from his cautious, new friendship with Steve, it was that silence was never an option. Steve cleared his throat loudly and stood up straight, putting down his empty can so that he could cross his arms and stare him down.

“That wasn’t really a tragic backstory though was it?” he said. “I feel cheated, Byers.”

And just like that, the tension between them evaporated. Jonathan felt his mouth twitch, turning away from Steve’s amused gaze and taking a sip of his beer to hide his smile. He held back a grimace. It was long past warm.

“I never made any promises of a tragic backstory,” he said and Steve leant towards him, resting his elbow on the counter.

“Hmm, so what more have I got to do to unlock it?” he said in a low voice.

“Earn more friendship points for a start.”

“And how do I get my hands on some of those?”

Jonathan wasn’t sure what had happened, but the atmosphere around them suddenly felt heavier. The look in Steve’s eyes had him simultaneously shivering and feeling like he was standing on the surface of the sun. His palms were sweating. He wiped them surreptitiously on his jeans as his mind scrambled to say something, _anything._

“Maybe I’ll tell you, if you tell _me_ the reason you came by here tonight,” he said, and he cringed internally.

_Could have been worse._

If Steve had noticed the shift in atmosphere and Jonathan’s discomfort, he gave no indication of it. He considered Jonathan for a moment before dropping his gaze.

“Sounds fair,” he murmured, and for the first time in history of Jonathan knowing him, Steve actually looked shy. He couldn’t very well document this moment on film, so instead Jonathan did his best to commit the sight to memory.

“I was wondering,” Steve said slowly, drumming his fingers against the countertop, “if you could maybe… teach me how to play DM.”

Now _that_ hadn’t been what Jonathan had expected at all. He frowned a little in disbelief, trying to catch Steve’s eye, but he was resolutely avoiding his attempt to do so. Words it was then.

“You want me to… ?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“But there’s some friendship points in it for you if you do,” Jonathan said, and was pleased to see a small smile tug at corners of Steve’s mouth as he made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Jonathan, can you _please_ teach me how to play DM, so that I can impress a bunch of middle school nerds and achieve full immersion into this strange nerd family.”

“... and because it’s fun?” Jonathan couldn’t resist adding.

“ _And_ because it’s fun,” Steve conceded with a sigh. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

“So, how many points did that get me?” Steve said, actually looking hopeful behind the facade of jokey banter. Jonathan hummed thoughtfully and turned to rest his elbow on the counter with his hand on his chin, mirroring Steve.

“I think that was worth… one point,” he said and laughed at how quickly Steve’s expression turned offended.

“Only one? Come on, man that was worth at least two!”

“Okay two, but you have to call me ‘Jonathan’ again.” Jonathan’s jaw clamped shut as soon as the words left his mouth and he cursed internally for having gotten such a loose tongue on one beer alone. As he concentrated on not blushing, he watched anxiously as Steve raised his eyebrows at him in surprise. But then his face fell back into an easy smile and Jonathan relaxed.

“Now you’re trespassing on _my_ friendship point territory…” Steve said. And then, with a glint of amusement in his eyes, he added, “Jonathan.”

Fighting back a giddy smile, Jonathan let Steve take away his warm, half empty can of beer — fingers brushing — and replace it with a cold one.

Jonathan wanted to do a little trespassing.

“So,” Steve said as he settled in with his third beer of the night, and Jonathan was grateful more than ever that Steve’s aversion for silence meant his brain couldn’t dwell on his wayward thoughts for too long. “I need you to teach me. Not too well, but well enough that I can convince them I haven’t been tutored, and that I just have a natural skill and talent for the game.”

“They’re gonna know, Steve.”

“Shit you’re right. Nothing gets past them. Smart little shits.” He grumbled into his beer. “In that case, hit me with everything you’ve got. I’m gonna dungeon master the fuck outta them.“

“That sounds terrible.”

“I’ll blow their tiny, middle school minds!”

“If it’s ‘mind blowing’ you’re after, I’m gonna have to tutor you every night,” Jonathan said, and Steve’s face fell.

“Shit, really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Every night?”

“And it will have have to be at your place, or Will will find out.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.” Steve waved his hand dismissively. “But _every night?!_ ”

“Harrington, that thirty-seven page spellbook is child’s play compared to the DM reading.”

“Fuck. Okay, every night then. Jesus…” Jonathan watched him with concern as Steve downed almost half his can in one go.

“Wow. You’re really committed to this.”

“More than my college apps right now.”

Startled at the sudden change of tone in conversation, Jonathan contemplated taking Steve’s beer away from him. The downright miserable look on his face made Jonathan’s heart clench. But then he blinked and the look was gone, as though it hadn’t been there at all.

“I’m committed to those kids having a good time,” Steve said with a firm smile. “And getting my hands on those friendship points.” His grin was genuine then as he sent Jonathan a wink that had him choking on his beer again for the second time that evening.

_Did he just—?_

“How many points do I get each session?” Steve carried on, unbelievably oblivious to Jonathan’s near death experience that was occurring right next to him as his sipped on his own beer, a picture of innocence.

“I’ll decide later,” Jonathan croaked out. He should have definitely taken the beer away. Or not let him have any at all come to think of it.

“Aww, Byers you’re no fun.” Steve bumped their shoulders together, undeniable on purpose this time. It was at that point, Jonathan decided to give into… whatever this was. He downed the rest of his beer, grinning at Steve’s raised eyebrows when he was done.

“‘Fun’ is a Level 5 friendship bonus that you haven’t yet unlocked,” Jonathan said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “And what happened to ‘Jonathan’?”

“Damn, I’m that weak a level? Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do.” Steve’s voice was low, and he leant in closer  — close enough for Jonathan to feel his breath on his cheek — so that Jonathan could hear him better. Somewhere in Jonathan’s alcohol-addled mind, he wondered why Steve didn’t just talk louder instead, but he found that he was enjoying the closeness of the other boy far too much to care. “And I’m still calling you ‘Byers’ until you’ve earned a few more of mine.” Jonathan clicked his tongue.

“And how do I earn more?”

‘On-the-way-to-drunk Jonathan’ really wanted to know the answer. He waited patiently as Steve appeared to seriously consider his reply.

“I’ll decide later,” he said finally, and then yelped with laughter as Jonathan made to shove him off the countertop for parroting his own words back at him.

Somehow, it was now almost midnight and with the return of Joyce Byers looming, they both used the last of the wits they had between them to gather up the mess of empty cans and throw them clumsily into the trunk of Steve’s car.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I leave my car here for the night?” Steve asked with a frown, taking three attempts to lock his trunk properly.

“Yeah I’m sure,” Jonathan said, watching him twist the key in the lock with a pained expression. “Are _you_ okay walking home by yourself?” The cold air was starting to sober him up a little, and the lingering fear he had of having someone he cared about disappearing into the night, began to rear its ugly head. Jonathan tried not to think too hard about when exactly  _Steve_ had started to fall under his definition of ‘someone he cared about’. Even in his drunkenness, Steve seemed to have sensed his apprehension, and he roughly grabbed Jonathan’s shoulder in an attempt at a comforting squeeze.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said confidently. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Also, I’m pretty sure that I’m a much better navigator when drunk anyways.” He gestured over his shoulder vaguely in the direction of his car. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick her up. And maybe I can give you a ride to school as a thank you. You and Nance?”

“Y-yeah that would be great. Thanks.”

They hovered in front of Steve’s car for a few moments and Jonathan felt completely sober, now that he was faced with the prospect of saying goodbye. Should he shake Steve’s hand? No. Too formal, too weird. Pat his shoulder? Too awkward. Grasp his arm —?

Hug?

No.

Before he could decide, Steve had raised his hand in a clumsy wave and turned to make his way down the driveway. As he watched him, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel like he should say something more, tell him to stay longer. He’d been here two hours and yet somehow it hadn’t felt that long at all. Maybe he should stop him from leaving altogether and let him stay on the couch for the night, sleep off the beer… anything but have him walk away with only a short wave and a stumble. His mind scrambled to think.

“T-thanks for the beer!” he blurted out and immediately wished that he’d just gone back inside. Steve turned back around and the grin he flashed his way had Jonathan reaching for a phantom camera. He inhaled sharply, the frigid air burning his lungs.

“Anytime, man!” Steve yelled back at him. “See you tomorrow!”

Jonathan watched him disappear into the gloom before walking back to the front door and shutting it behind himself. He leant against it, mind racing.

“Friendship points…” he mumbled aloud to the empty room. Then all at once, the blood rushed to his face and he was thankful more than ever that Will was a heavy sleeper these days, as he groaned loudly and buried his glowing face in his hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the lovely comments so far! They're always highly appreciated <3 and I am open to asks/chats on tumblr!
> 
> [My Stoncy/Stranger Things Tumblr](https://stoncyy.tumblr.com/)| [Main Tumblr](http://purpleneutrino.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purpleneutrino)


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